[THIS IS A WORK OF EROTIC FICTION. IT DEALS WITH THEMES OF INCEST. ALL CHARACTERS DEPICTED HEREIN ARE OVER EIGHTEEN (18) YEARS OF AGE. I DO HOPE YOU ENJOY.]
*
The knock on our door was so tentative that I barely brought my head up. My husband had caught it though, his right eyebrow drawing into a quizzical arch as he shifted his weight off me just a bit.
Then it came again, still faint as the knuckles rapped off the wood.
I lifted up on my elbows to stare at the bedroom door, aware of the disbelief on my face as I looked back to Dan. He was stifling a rather bemused grin, offering a shrug as he felt my attention.
Another knock, an edge more assertive—he wasn't going away, the nervy little shit.
"Yeah," Dan spoke up finally.
"It's me."
Without thinking I tugged the sheet over my bare breasts, the cotton weave cool against my nipples. Dan glanced at me and tossed his head with mock weariness as he played a hand down the half-slip still covering my legs.
"You need something?" Dan asked softly, sharing a mischievous wink with me as he spoke.
"Ummm..."
"Huh?" my husband cut in, a bit louder now.
"I gotta ask Mom something."
"Has to ask you something," Dan whispered close to my ear, nuzzling his mouth into crook of my neck till I pushed him away, ignoring my obvious discomfiture with this whole insanity. "...What you think he wants to ask?"
"This has got to stop," I hissed back at him.
"Hey, we made the kid a deal, you and me both."
"I don't care. We can't have him just coming down like this and..."
Dan drew an index finger along his nose as if to shush me.
The kid knocked again, two very precise taps.
"What you want to ask her?" Dan piped up, deftly working his fingertips beneath the black silk of the slip and deliberately tracing them up the length of my thigh. There was no immediate answer, no sound save for a creak of hardwood as our son nervously shifted his feet.
I listened to this silence, closing my eyes briefly to the sensation of that touch. Dan was smiling at me when I looked up to him. 'Deal's a deal," he mouthed and kissed me softly on the forehead.
"...I'll be right there," I heard myself say, drifting my eyelids down with the words.
"And don't keep her too long," Dan teased as I slipped off my side of the bed, knowing the remark was for our ears, but having no doubt that our Danny was probably still listening in from out in the hallway. I eyed my husband for a brief second as I plucked my blouse up off the back of the rocker, wondering how he was really doing with all this.
"Think he'd be surprised if you didn't wear that?" he mused.
"I think...I think it would give him new ideas. New ideas that he probably doesn't need to be having."
"You know, there's nothing sexier than a lady wearing only her wedding band."
I lifted my hand up between us, twisting the gold ring with my thumb. "That's only when it's your wife." I dredged up a devilish grin, feeling my heart palpitate as I actually considered it. "...And you'd better watch out or I'll really do it."
"Like a dare, you mean?" he parried, lifting up on one elbow as he coolly surveyed my near naked body.
"Yes."
"Like if I dare you to go down there just like that. ...With just your sexy little slip thing?"
I felt the sudden blush rising to my cheeks and shifted my gaze to the floor.
"...Dare you."
My stomach fluttered when I looked back at him, his broad generous smile cocked playfully to one side. I dropped the blouse back on the chair and opened the bedroom door, stepping back into the hallway in one long stride. I lifted my left hand—a glint of gold, my fingers trembling—and gave him a tight little wave, flavored at the last instant with my best wink.
"Bye," he said, waving back, still smiling as his topless wife closed the door and disappeared down the darkened hall.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
This particular "insanity" as I phrased it for want of a better term had started barely two weeks prior, the last week in June to be precise—the 26th, a Tuesday, just after one in the afternoon. Dan and I were both at work—he was just wrapping up an account meeting and I had just shown a house over in Shadyside. It was something we did a lot in the past year or two, a hastily arranged matinee tucked into a busy work schedule.
As was our habit, we parked our cars at the curb rather than pulling into the garage—Dan was out ahead of me, slipping through the gate that led to our backyard. Two or three times that summer a nice sunny afternoon had spelled a fun skinny dip in our pool followed up with an unusually hard fucking as I knelt in the patch of lawn beneath our new patio. Forty-three years old and going back to the office with grass stains on your knees and your thighs sticky with cum makes a girl feel a whole lot younger than forty-three. At least it did with me.
"Get this off," Dan laughed, pinning me against the siding as he yanked my blouse free, not bothering to unbutton it as he pulled it up over my head, his mouth pressed to mine, my arms tangled in the sleeves, that delicious syrupy warmth spreading up the length of my body, aware of the coarsening in my breath as he freed my arms and tossed the blouse onto the shrubbery. "...God, I love strippin' you," he whispered lewdly, deft as he flicked open the clasp of my brassiere, an almost electric sensation as the lace cups slipped off my breasts, his free hand sliding my skirt upwards till I felt his fingers digging into the soft roundness of my butt.
"So, you wanna fuck me, mister?" I murmured, the words as much a part of our lovemaking as anything.
"I'm gonna fuck you so hard."
"I can take it," I grinned defiantly, always the same words, always that lively thrill as I tossed my head a bit.
"Go on, get your hot little ass in the water," Dan laughed, playfully shoving me so that I was staggering ahead of him as we rounded the corner into the backyard of our property.
I remember stopping dead in my tracks. Or teenaged son Danny, who should have been out with the landscaping crew that afternoon, was standing along one of our chase lounges naked as the day, his erect cock getting stroked furiously by a shirtless guy with dirty blond hair.
Dan actually almost crashed into me from behind—neither of them aware of us for that long second or so till I gasped louder than I thought possible, standing there stripped to the waist, my shoes kicked off, tits swaying stupidly.
"Hey," Dan fairly shrieked stupidly, his arm out pointing at them as the blond boy's hand froze in mid-stroke, our Danny's face blanching of color as he turned and saw us there. And in that instant before anything happened, all of our eyes met.
"Danny," I choked, my voice strangled.
His mouth moved but he made no sound. The shirtless kid who was probably no older that his early twenties suddenly bolted, up on his feet, running, taking the tall fence that backed our yard in frantic scrambling heave—I'd crossed my arms, stupidly trying to cover my breasts.
"What is this," Dan yelled, taking a step around me. I grabbed him, not sure of what he was thinking, his tone more stunned than angry.
And Danny bolted for the house, leaving his clothes and dirty sneakers scattered on the hot flagstone.
"No, no," I was saying, gripping into my husband so that he couldn't follow him inside. "No...Just let him go for now."
An hour later, both our schedules cleared as we called in with an unspecified family emergency, Dan and I sat out by the pool. The ice clinked in his glass as he swirled the tall VO and ginger ale I'd fixed him. I wondered what was going though his mind after seeing what we'd just seen. It had floored me and I didn't have all the testosterone bullshit swilling in with it.
"We have to talk about it with him," I said softly, garnering a slight nod.
"It doesn't mean he's gay," I went on, though I reflected blackly that having another man jerking you off didn't go a long way to defining you as straight either.
"Not that there's anything wrong with it," Dan answered as he blankly stared at the stone beneath his feet, parroting the old sitcom gag but having his voice betray a raw pain as it crackled.
"He's our son and we love him," I said, almost as if I needed to remind us both.
"I do, I do." He looked up at me and tried for a wink, a tear welling in the corner of his eye "I love him no matter what."
"Let's go up and talk to him then."
He nodded and took my hand, squeezing it gently as we started back into the house.
Three knocks to get the door open, Danny hunched on the edge of his bed, face skewed away from us.
"We're not mad at you," I started. "...We're not."
"I'm sorry."
"You don't need to say that, Sport," Dan said in a husked voice, reaching out to touch our boy's shoulder only to have him cringe away.
"We're just worried about you," I went on. "...It doesn't matter to us if you're..."
"I'm not gay," he blurted angrily, furiously swiping at the tears streaming down his cheeks.
"We're not saying you are," Dan put in, again patting his shoulder as he sat on the opposite side of the bed.
I looked at Danny sitting there and was just reminded of what a painfully shy kid he'd always been. No girlfriend yet, never even what you'd call a real date—I recalled an occasion a year or so before when a thin, rather plain girl had come up to say hi as we'd shopped in the mall. She liked him, you could see it, but Danny blushed and sputtered, ready to crawl out of his skin. And yet I could tell he liked her too. I'd kidded with him over it, but had felt bad for him in that same instant.
"Who's this kid who was out there?" Dan asked.
"Nobody," came the answer, his head shaking dejectedly.
"Has he...has he ever been over here before?"
"No, no..."
"You don't have to lie about it. If he was here before, it doesn't matter. "
"We're just worried about you," I interjected, knowing I was repeating myself now for want of something to say.
Danny moved his head, sniffling loudly.
"So he wasn't here then, that's what you're saying?"
"He wanted to...never before..."
"...Well, you aren't in trouble, okay," Dan said quietly. "We'll all talk about it all tomorrow."
"We love you," I whispered as I kissed the top of his head.
It was as if Dan and I both willed ourselves not to speak of it until we were in bed that night. Nothing, not a single syllable, and then, quietly: "What're you thinking?"
"Kid's a teenager and teenage boys think solely with their dicks," Dan said in a resigned tone. "They wanna get off and trying to be rational and intelligent about it doesn't work. I used to be one, remember?"
"But you never did...you never did it like that, with..."
"I had a plump little redheaded girlfriend before I could drive and she'd..."
"She jerked you off."
"Unfortunately that was all she'd do, but she did keep it well milked."
"That's gross," I said, nudging him in the ribs with my elbow.
